He said that word, but the truth was that marrying Amelia was feeling less and less like a sacrifice the more he got to know her. Her beauty drew him in, of course. No man would look at her and not feel that attraction. But there was far more to it than that. He liked her loyalty, misplaced as it was. He liked her fire, the one her father insisted would have to be extinguished. Hugh didn’t want to do that. He just wanted to turn it, have it burn in passion rather than anger.
He liked her, truth be told. The fact that she hated him in return was not easy for him. Not pleasant. Not what he wanted, though he didn’t want to analyze what he wanted too deeply. Or else he might lose control of more than his emotional response.
Amelia seemed to inspire that in him.
“Sacrifice,” Robert said, dragging Hugh back to the conversation. “I hate to watch you do this.”
Hugh sighed. “I appreciate the concern, I do. But this is what it is. And it will happen tomorrow whether you rail at me about it or not. I can only hope that you all will not shun Amelia in some ill-conceived attempt to protect me from my own choices.”
“The duchesses already like her,” Charlotte, Ewan’s wife, said as she approached and slipped her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. “And even if we didn’t, we would never give her the cut direct. For your sake.”
He glanced at his male friends and found them all nodding in agreement, even Robert. Relief flowed through him. “Good.”
“Your Grace, the Viscount Quinton and Miss Quinton,” Murphy announced from the door, then stepped back to allow the two to enter.
Hugh caught his breath as Amelia all but floated into the room on the arm of her father. She was stunning, just as she was always stunning. Tonight she wore a dark blue gown, three shades darker than her eyes. Her black hair was done in an elaborate style that accentuated her long, slender neck. The only thing missing from her lovely face was a smile.
He hated that she was so miserable, and that the lie he and her father had told had led her to despise him. It was a mighty hurdle to overcome. Perhaps he never truly would.
He blinked as he realized he’d just been staring at her for far too long, then came forward to greet his new guests. “My lord,” he said, shaking her father’s hand. “Amelia.”
She swallowed, and her gaze darted away from his face. “Your Grace,” she murmured.
“I believe you know some of the party,” he said, motioning to the room before he did a quick reintroduction of his friends. He noted how welcoming they were to her. Even Robert did not show his displeasure in the match, though Hugh caught him watching Amelia even when she stepped away from him. He wasn’t sure why that inspired such a swell of jealousy, but there it was.
Finally, the party began to break up, moving toward the ballroom where the rest of the guests had already begun to arrive. Amelia and her father stood behind, her shifting in her place, Quinton’s jaw set.
Robert cast a glance at Hugh and then approached the man. “Lord Quinton, I think I recall that your father fought in the Seven Years’ War. He was quite the hero, if I am remembering my facts correctly.”
Quinton’s eyes lit up and he stepped toward Robert. “Indeed, he was, Your Grace.”
“I would love to hear the tales,” Robert said, and motioned toward the door. The two men left together, with Quinton talking loudly as they departed.
Hugh smiled. Robert was a rake of the highest order and his most outspoken friend, but he could be counted on. Just as they all could. Now he was alone with Amelia, allowed to be her escort without any interruption.
He moved toward her with a smile. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, lifting her gaze to his. “You…well, you are very handsome, I’m sure you know it.”
He stifled a laugh at the almost reluctant compliment she gave. It was some progress, of course, but small, indeed. “May I escort you to the ballroom?”
She hesitated, then nodded and took his arm. Hugh caught his breath at the electric current that seemed to snap through him at that benign touch. Yes, he was attracted to this woman. More, perhaps, than he’d allowed himself to admit.
“Will I meet your sister tonight?” she asked as they exited the parlor and began the stroll to his ballroom.
He frowned and the good feelings left him. “No,” he said softly. “Lizzie is in Brighthollow. With the wedding tomorrow, it would be impossible to get her here in time. But I have written to her. I would very much like to join her at the estate after the wedding so you could meet her. If that would be agreeable to you.”
She glanced up at him, and there was no mistaking the surprise on her face. “You are asking me?”
“I’m sure that is not what you expect, given the nature of our engagement,” he said. “But I hope you’ll soon learn that I have no intention of forcing you into a life you do not wish to lead. If you say you will not go, I’ll make other arrangements. But my shire is…it’s wonderful, Amelia. Beautiful and quiet. My sister will adore you, I’m sure.”
She seemed to ponder the reasoning, and then she nodded. “I think that sounds lovely. I would be happy to join you there.”
The ballroom was just a few steps away now, and he found himself sorry for that fact. This was the first time that anger and betrayal were not pulsing between them.
It seemed she had somewhat of the same thought, for she turned toward him, stopping their progress as she looked up into his face. “Brighthollow…Hugh,” she whispered, and his stomach clenched as she said his name for the first time. “I-I don’t like how this situation was created. But I was very rude to you in the carriage two days ago. I’m…I’m sorry.”
He expelled a long breath and then shook his head. “You deserve every bit of emotion you feel, Amelia. I deserve it, too. So if it helps to pour it over me, I will not fight you. But I do hope you will leave the door open to the idea that I’m not the ogre you think I am. At least not completely.”
“I hope you’re not,” she said, her blue gaze never wavering from his. “Or else we shall both be very unhappy.”
He said nothing, for there was no response to be had. He just took her hand and led her into the ballroom, where their engagement would be announced and their future sealed.
For better or for worse.
Amelia stood beside the dance floor, the first time she had been alone all night. Her engagement to the Duke of Brighthollow and the surprise that the wedding would be the next day had been announced almost as soon as the ball began. Since then she had been surrounded by people, asking questions, sizing her up, making assumptions.
The duchesses had been wonderful, of course. One of them had always been at her side, as if they were on guard to keep people from being cruel. At least to her face. She had no doubt horrible things were being said behind her back.
But now she was alone, and for the first time she could consider her situation. When the announcement had been made, she had expected a cold fist of dread to make itself known in her stomach, but that hadn’t been the case. If anything, she had stood there, positioned between her father and Hugh, and she had felt…well, it wasn’t exactly excitement, but there was an anticipation that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. She accepted this was her future. She was uncertain about Brighthollow, but she intended to make the best of it.
There was little else to do.
She turned slightly and caught her breath. Hugh was coming across the room toward her, with that dark focus drilling into her as it always did when he looked at her. Her stomach came alive and her breath grew short as he came near her.
“Brighthollow,” she whispered as he reached her. She could not help but note that every eye in the room followed him, sizing up their interaction. Heat filled her cheeks at the focus of the crowd and the varying expressions on their watchful faces.
He glanced over his shoulder to where her eyes had strayed and frowned deeply. “I can offer you two options, Amelia.”
“Dance with me, knowing that it will be a show for them, or take a walk with me in the garden. The moon is full and the lanterns are lit. It should be a bit of a respite from the exhibition we are meant to put on.”
She stared up into that stern face. That achingly handsome face that sometimes didn’t reflect emotion and made it easy for her to judge him as cold or cruel. Tonight, she saw just a flutter of something beneath the surface. He was offering the respite for her.
And that gave her a strange kind of hope.
“The garden sounds lovely,” she said with hesitation, for being alone with Hugh was always…complicated. “I wouldn’t mind the air.”
“Excellent,” he said, and smiled as he took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow.
She stared. Had she ever seen his smile before? It certainly relaxed his face, made him infinitely more handsome. It made him…younger, somehow. More carefree.
He guided her from the room and out onto the terrace. A few couples were gathered here and there, enjoying the moonlight. She even caught a glimpse of the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield focused on the stars. She was pointing at a few and he smiled indulgently as he watched her.
Hugh guided her to the stairs that led down to the garden and steadied her as they made their way from the house, the party, the people and into the quiet and calm of his garden. Her garden, too, she supposed, once the vows were said tomorrow.
She drew in a breath as she stepped away from him and looked around. She did love a garden, and this one was lovely. The grass was well tended and the flowers taken care of.
She felt him watching her and shivered before she pivoted to face him. “Do you regret my choosing this over dancing?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up in another shadow of a smile, and with the moonlight on his face he looked a little…wicked.
“Not at all,” he said. “Although had you chosen to dance, I would not have been sorry, either.”
“That is a diplomatic answer,” she said, laughing. “You are a wonderful dancer, though.”
He shrugged. “A gentleman’s purpose on the dance floor is to make the lady look even more elegant. If I succeed, it says more about my partner than me.”
“Is it one of your passions?” She stepped closer.
His eyes widened a bit, the pupils dilating. “Passions?”
“In the carriage the other day,” she clarified. “I asked you about your passions and you were vague at best. Since you are so good at dancing, I wondered if that was one of yours.”
He swallowed, and she found herself fascinated by how his throat worked at the action. “Something like it.” His voice was low, rough, and that tingle between her legs that he seemed to so easily inspire started up again in earnest.
“Well,” she said, surprised that her own voice contained a similar timber. “You are light on your feet for such a…big man.”
He chuckled, but as that laughter faded away, the silence grew heavy between them. She watched, fascinated, as he took a long step toward her. Suddenly he felt very close indeed. Close and big and hot. So very hot as he stepped into her personal space.
She stared up at him, aware that her heart was throbbing and her hands were shaking at her sides.
“This isn’t what I planned, Amelia,” he whispered, his voice barely carrying despite his standing so close.
For the first time she believed him. That he hadn’t meant to rip her life apart. It didn’t stop him, of course, but the intention meant something at least.
“No?” she asked. “What was?”
He remained still for a moment. Quiet. But tonight he was not unreadable. Tonight she sensed a longing in him, something that sang to the longing she suddenly felt herself.
“I don’t know,” he admitted as he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek.
She caught her breath, and then there was no breath. There was no light, no sound, no other person or beast in the whole world. There was only him as he lowered his head slowly and brushed his lips to hers.
Hugh had not meant to kiss Amelia. He’d wanted to. Truth be told, he’d wanted to do just that since the first moment he’d watched her pick flowers in her father’s garden. What man wouldn’t? She was exquisite and her full lips were like a beacon, begging for his mouth on hers.
But tonight he’d truly only meant to give her a break from the watchful eyes of the ball. And now it had escalated and his arms were around her and his mouth was on hers.
Her lips parted beneath his on a shaky sigh of pleasure, and he couldn’t resist. He glided his tongue inside and was nearly unmanned by the sweet, sultry flavor of her. His hands strayed to her lower back and molded her to him as the kiss spiraled into something dark and passionate that bordered on out of control.
He wanted her. To stake his claim in the most physical way possible. Here and now, propriety and consequences be damned. He wanted to make her forget that she loved someone else. He wanted to make himself forget the sting of that fact.
But if he drove any further, those animal desires would take over, and he couldn’t let that happen. She already believed him an ogre—taking her in his garden would do nothing to mitigate that.
With great difficulty, he pulled away. She remained in his arms, staring up at him with bleary, unblinking eyes. “Hugh—” she began, her voice shaking and her fingers tightening on his forearms.
God’s teeth, but she tested a man. He was ready to claim her mouth once more when he heard someone clear their throat.
He released her and she paced away, her hand lifting to her lips as she stared off at some far-away place across his garden. He turned and glared as one of the footmen stood at the path, staring at anything but his master.
“What is it?” Hugh snapped, more sharply than he had intended.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. Murphy requested that I ask for your assistance. It seems there is some kind of trouble with Lady Brookfield and—”
Hugh pressed his lips together hard. “Murphy knows how to handle these things. Tell him—”
Amelia stepped up, and her gentle hand on his silenced his snappish reply. “Hugh, why don’t you go take care of it? Murphy doesn’t seem the kind of man who would send for you without cause. I’ll…I’ll gather myself and come back to the ball in a moment.”
He stared down at her, seeing his desire reflected in her eyes, though in a much more innocent and slightly confused way. That she wanted him set his soul on fire, but he tamped down the reaction and inclined his head slightly. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Very.”
He looked at their hands, now intertwined. She followed his gaze and snatched hers away, her cheeks turning bright pink as she did so. “If you are certain, then I will do so. I will look for you later.”
She nodded, and then she walked to a bench a few steps away. He watched her settle into place there, the moonlight falling over her like she had intended it to do so.
He shook his head as he motioned for the servant to take him to wherever the trouble was back up at the house. And yet he couldn’t stop thinking of Amelia. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, he would be married to the woman and then everything he wanted to do with her, to her, would be out of the realm of fantasy and into the reality of his bed.
Amelia sat on the bench in the garden just three feet from where Hugh had kissed her so thoroughly and passionately. She set her head in her shaking hands and tried not to relive that moment for the tenth time since he’d walked away from her.
Tried and failed, for the feel of his hands on her, his mouth on her, his tongue touching hers, was alive in her body. Like he was still standing right there, filling her with an emotion she could not rightly name and a desire she didn’t fully understand.
“Amelia?”
She jumped and lowered her hands. The Duchess of Willowby was coming across the grass toward her, pretty face lined with concern as she adjusted her wrap.
“Your Grace,” Amelia whispered. “Hello.”
Diana tilted her head, examining Amelia like she was reading her. Then she sat down on the bench next to Amelia and smiled. “I have always thought Hugh’s garden very fine. In the moonlight it is even better.”
“Yes,” Amelia mused, staring at the spot in that garden where he had ravished her mouth so thoroughly. “It is…something.”
Diana glanced at her. “Are you escaping the party or the man?”
Amelia worried her lip. “The party initially. Now I have a strong desire to run from all of it. Or…or to it? I don’t know, I’m very confused.” The words fell in a rush, and she blushed as she glanced at Diana. “I’m sorry, that was wildly inappropriate.”
“Why?” Diana asked with a shrug. “Gracious, you have been through a great deal in the past ten days. If anyone deserves all the confusion and uncertainty they feel, it is you. And since you and I are going to be great friends, I’m certain, you can talk to me about it. It might help.”
“I was supposed to announce my engagement to someone else,” Amelia said with a shake of her head. “And tomorrow I’m marrying Hugh. I’m spinning.”
Diana nodded. “It would be impossible not to spin under those circumstances.”
“And I hardly know Hugh,” Amelia continued.
“Yes. It’s a whirlwind.” Diana sighed. “You know, I only married Lucas a little over a year ago, so Hugh is a recent friend to me. But he has been my husband’s closest friend nearly all his life. I’ve watched him over the past year, observed who he is, what kind of man he is.”
Amelia blinked. She was trying to determine that for herself, with little success. “What do you think of him?”
Diana took her hand and squeezed gently. “He is a good man, Amelia. A kind man. A decent man.”
The Duke Who Lied Page 9
